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    Yes to Gossamer   
      
    All That I Love   
   by Lashala   
   Lashala@hotmail.com   
      
   Part 4   
   See part 0 for header information.   
      
      
   That makes me angrier and I stop for a moment. "What about the health center?   
   If most of the people have left, what's *that* for?"   
      
   Boris' eyes soften. "It's for those that didn't leave. As you know, those   
   amputations the men made on themselves and each other were extremely crude." He   
   ignores my bland expression and shrugs. "Many men suffered infection, gangrene;   
   they needed to be taken somewhere. Along with many prisoners, test subjects and   
   sadly some of the females."   
      
   It hits me then. "It's a morgue," I state flatly and Boris nods.   
      
   "Yes, my friend, it is. I hope it will be empty or only moderately in use when   
   we arrive."   
      
   "Boris? Vokolvich isn't the only one I need to stop."   
      
   His breath brushes my neck. "I know, Alexei. I think... I think I would like to   
   help you with this. With *all* of this."   
      
   "Just get me those weapons and some troops, Boris. That'll be enough."   
      
   I start to turn away and he grips my arm. I stare down at his fingers wondering   
   if I need to break them off, but I feel his eyes on me and look back up.   
   They're darker now, filled with grim determination and his voice backs it up.   
   "No, comrade, you *don't* understand. When I say I want to help you, I mean I   
   want to *help* you."   
      
   I look at him, the large frame, and remember the power there once was under it.   
   Boris isn't as old as he claims. He's out of shape, oh yes, but not impossible.   
   Still...   
      
   "I don't have time for you to have a stroke or worse, Boris."   
      
   He grunts at me, offended. "Then I won't worry about keeping you in my will."   
      
   He has a will?! I'm *in* it?! That's not what I meant at all and I say it.   
   "Boris, I didn't *mean* it to sound..."   
      
   He waves me off chuckling. "I know what you meant and you're right. I'm not for   
   climbing through forests or scaling rocky walls. At least not now but this..."   
   He gives his gut a pat. "*This* can be lost, my friend. In time. However, I'm   
   *very good* at organizing attacks and hits..." His eyes glisten. "That is   
   something you need now and you're going to need strategists and planners if you   
   want all this to work."   
      
   Okay, I'll buy that. "You got some ideas?"   
      
   That earns me a devilish grin. For a moment I think I know where I might have   
   gotten *my* smirk. "I have a...*few*, Alexei. I'll put together some plans.   
   We'll talk later."   
      
   We reach the door and he pauses. Before I can stop him, him reaches out and   
   takes my left hand. I manage not to react to the heat from his searing up   
   through the glove, keep it as life-less seeming as I can and check my   
   expression as he looks at me in surprise. "I'm impressed. It almost *feels*   
   real. Fleshy. American specialists?"   
      
   "Um, yeah." I ease it back glad he let me. He's not ready for too many   
   surprises and if I couldn't convince him I'm me, I'd die right now. Later, when   
   I can talk more I'll tell him everything.   
      
   "They did what they could."   
      
   He looks at me a beat or two longer and I look back calmly then start. "Damn! I   
   almost forgot."   
      
   Reaching into the inside pocket of my coat while ignoring Dimitry's slight   
   intake of breath, I pull out two CD's in pristine sealed packages. "I didn't   
   know if these were available, so I hope you don't have them."   
      
   One is 'Barry White and the Love Unlimited Orchestra's Greatest Hits', the   
   other a music retrospective of Isaac Hayes. Boris reaches out, takes them from   
   my hand and cradles them like a baby. "Alexei," he breathes out in shock. "I   
   don't know what to say."   
      
   "Usually, 'thanks' works."   
      
   "Da. Spasiba. Of course, forgive me. It's just... This means the *world* to me.   
   Ah, Barry. He died too soon, my friend, much too soon. His, was a voice meant   
   to sing forever."   
      
   He takes a moment to cross himself and I dip my head in respect. He may be a   
   crook but he's respectful. Then he smiles. "It's *almost* enough."   
      
   Almost? Enough for *what?*   
      
   As I stand there, I feel his hand on my hip. I look down, watch him lift out my   
   wallet, pop it open and pull out a hundred. He hands me the wallet back with a   
   cool look wagging the bill. "For the flowers. You think I didn't know what you   
   were *doing?* Those were *prize winning* roses you inebriated!"   
      
   Shit, he's still good. I keep forgetting that. After all, he taught me. I can't   
   help but look back like a kid caught in the cookie jar. "Sorry, Boris."   
      
   His gray eyes suddenly sparkle and for a moment he's the younger man I first   
   met. He grips the doorknob and opens it with a laugh. "Heh! You *have* been   
   spoiled. Can't take a few shots. Go home, *boy!*"   
      
   There's love in the tone and I know it. Grinning I shake his hand, nod and walk   
   out; up steps into the alley just as it starts to rain again. I pull up the   
   collar on my coat and ease the hat down over my eyes but the gleam is still   
   there.   
      
   One plan down.   
      
   Two to go.   
      
   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   
      
   The Hotel Baltschug Kempinski   
   1 Ulitsa Baltschug   
   Moscow, Russia   
   Evening, Same Day   
      
   I step out of the shower glad there was enough hot water and berate myself   
   slightly for taking a full fifteen minutes. Things are getting better all   
   right. Luxury hotel or not, was a time I wasn't that lavish with a bath in   
   Moscow. Not if I didn't want someone to flush a toilet and scald my ass.   
      
   The hotel suite isn't bad at all. Air conditioned, it's neat, clean; new flat   
   screen TV in the corner with satellite reception, two direct-dial satellite   
   telephones with voice mail, in-house mobile phones; a computer outlet and WI-FI   
   Internet access, personal safe (the money case and my guns fit perfectly)   
   coffee maker and good *Gevalia* coffee, too. I even got a bathrobe and   
   slippers.   
      
   I smile at the opulence, remember my old penthouse and sigh. I'm doing okay for   
   once. There's even a pretty impressive stereo and a fully stocked wet bar. I've   
   had enough of that already; just grab a Coke and chuckle when it actually   
   bubbles up after I snap the top. Just like home.   
      
   Dinner was a riot for me. I was still arguing with myself on KFC or McDonald's   
   when I realized I needed to be more at home. I can eat those anytime, anywhere   
   in the States but miss out on authentic Russian food *in* Russia?   
      
   Committed, I wound my way to a small caf not far from the hotel and settled   
   down to a thick bowl of *solianka*, beef soup heaped with sour cream. It's   
   usually served with vodka and I didn't break tradition, hence the soda now. By   
   the time I got back to the hotel I was *beyond* just a buzz. It's been a while   
   since I drank like that and I don't want a hangover. I really need caffeine and   
   the coffee I'm hogging for the morning.   
      
   Still, as I sat there at the caf, the traffic in my head mingling with the   
   traffic on the streets, I realized how much this city, this land, is a part of   
   me. Know with every passing day I feel more like this is where I belong. I wish   
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)